Counterfeit
by marymin
Summary: Kano seeks his own downfall, eager to see it up close. Warnings for self-hatred and self destructive tendencies.


It was getting darker. Kano had lost track of time, and he wondered if he should bother even to head back to the base. He'd spent the past night on a park bench, metal armrests digging into his neck, and the previous night he hadn't slept at all. He'd been planning to return tonight but since it was already so dark, it was beginning to seem useless.

He didn't know what it was, that made him this restless, that made him want to walk until his legs ached. He didn't want to go back yet. It felt unsafe. Unsafe for the people waiting for him back home to be around him in this state. Unsafe for him to be around anyone, really. The dull edge of hatred in his stomach (or was that hunger?) twinged and ached as he thought of returning, surrendering himself to artificial light and cheerful jokes, to the smell of dinner being cooked— ah, it was definitely hunger, then. _Nothing more._

His boots tapped on the concrete in the alleyway, the only sound other than far-off traffic. He paused as a railing came into view, the back edge of some parking garage.

'Just like a cat', they said sometimes, fondness he didn't deserve in their voices, and he lived up to it easily, digging his fingers into the railing and hoisting himself up to walk the tightrope. It was a challenge, one foot in front of the other, and he held his arms out to either side for balance. Though he watched his feet, the image he projected had a smiling face and shut eyes. Peaceful. Something to aspire to, anyway.

Kano was nearing the other end of the railing and growing bored of the challenge when he heard someone else entering the alley. He hopped down with ease. See, no real danger. _How boring._ He raised his eyes to see the newcomer.

The stranger was young, probably a teenager, but had put a lot of effort into appearing gritty and tough. As a master of false appearances, Kano found his attempts laughable. It was easy to see the spineless child underneath.

"What're you doin' here? No one should be back here."

Quickly, Kano found himself the subject of the wannabe thug's attention. He chuckled and shrugged his shoulders, tucking his hands into his pockets. "Taking a little night-time stroll. Why, would you like to join me?"

The invitation was not received well. The veins in the thug's forehead bulged visibly, and he stepped closer. "Get outta here."

Kano wondered what it was that he was interrupting. A gang meeting, maybe? Or a drug deal? He shook his head.

"Ah, but it's so nice back here. Quite scenic, really. Maybe I'll look into a vacation home." He kicked a cigarette butt contemplatively.

He expected the thug to rage, to roar. But his eyes narrowed, and he just growled. "If you like it so much, you can stay here." He pulled a gun from his pocket. Somehow, Kano had misjudged the situation. But who expected some half-rate thug to be carrying a handgun around?

A smile spread across Kano's face. Maybe tonight would be exciting after all. A fight could chase those murky shadows from his chest, and then he could go home and be teased and coddled and hit all he liked without worrying why he sought such things.

He moved close, his speed taking the stranger off guard. He was much bigger than Kano, but Kano was faster, and he wasn't afraid of fighting dirty. The thug grabbed for his jacket but he dodged sideways, carrying his illusion out further that direction as his actual form ducked under his arm. The thug blinked, probably seeing double images of the teenager. Kano was moving too quickly to be sure he was getting his images right, carefully controlling the fake vision of himself like a marionette. Right arm, left arm— He appeared to reach for the thug as his real self kicked at his kneecaps. The taller man howled in pain, shutting his eyes.

That was bad; Kano's biggest advantage vanished with his eyes shut. But he kept coming, burying his knuckles solidly into the other's stomach just below his ribs. A direct hit. Kido would be proud. The thug wheezed for air, and Kano stood back a little, surveying his work. A little sloppy, but—

A bang. Pain ripped through his leg and he fell, gasping, to the floor. He'd forgotten about the gun, or, rather, figured that the stranger wouldn't use it while so incapacitated. Kano was no stranger to pain, but the bullet burned in his leg, just above his knee, and he rolled on the pavement, trying to push himself upwards. Uneven footsteps announced the approach of the thug, and Kano squeezed his eyes shut, trying to pull at least his fake self to his feet, but failing.

"Not so cocky now, huh?" The feet stopped next to him, and Kano struggled to breathe, intent on at least gaining enough control to flash him a smile.

Thick boots kicked him over, face up, and a thrill of terror ran down his spine as he recognized his own body language, shoulders and arms curling inwards to protect himself. _How cowardly._ Kano laughed at the voice in his head. It wasn't like he cared.

The laughter brought him enough strength to re-shield himself, scrambling his facial features among a thousand different choices. He hoped if he died here the illusion would hold, making it impossible for him to be identified. A mystery for the ages, right?

The face of the thug above him twisted, and Kano braced himself for another strike, but there were more footsteps in the alley.

"Hey, where were you?" It seemed to be some of the thug's friends, and he turned to look at them.

"We waited, but you didn't show up. Hey, what's that?"

"Did you shoot a kid?"

It was Kano's best bet, so he made himself smaller, conjured blood seeping from his nose and mouth. It wasn't a hard image to create, since had experience with it already. Maybe they'd think he was dead and leave him alone. He lay still, trying to ignore the throbs of pain in his leg.

"Oh, dude, let's get out of here…" That voice sounded horrified, and Kano's tormentor threw one last reluctant look at his crumpled form, then left.

Kano waited as long as he could for them to go, his breath coming ragged from his mouth. Then he let the fake image fade into the lower-maintenance mask that lay just beneath.

He lay on the cold pavement, unable to summon the motivation to move. The fear was ebbing way, and in its place the searing pain from his leg roared through him. He wondered how much blood he'd lost already. Probably a lot. On the other hand, the absence of any gushing meant that the bullet hadn't hit an artery.

It was dark enough now that it was hard to see, and there weren't any streetlamps this far back in the alleyways. At this point, if someone came down this way, they'd probably just step on him.

Kano figured he'd probably deserve that, for getting himself in this situation. He stretched the joints in his arms, achy and creaking, and tried to push himself up. He managed to get himself into a sitting position, and was able to see the wound for the first time. He looked away immediately. Right, getting up.

He tried to maneuver his good leg under him, but found it impossible to stand. Collapsing back to the pavement, he panted. Well, he didn't have to move far. The injury was obviously so bad he wouldn't be able to hide it, not even with his abilities, so he wouldn't be able to go home until it was healed. And by then he'd be better enough to walk, so it really would be good timing. He knew they didn't have the money for a hospital or anything of the sort. Hell, they might not even have money enough for bandages, but they could probably steal those. On the other hand, if Kido got caught shoplifting again… No, best to stay here until he could pretend nothing had happened.

However, the middle of the alley may not be the best place to wait.

Slowly, Kano dragged himself to the side, tucking his body away in the corner between a large dumpster and the brick wall. The mortar between the bricks dug into his shoulders as he leaned against it, but it felt safer. It was also getting colder by the minute, and Kano hoped the corner would be slightly warmer. He knocked his head against the side of the dumpster, a little too hard, and the shock sent tremors of pain through his body that snaked down into the bullet hole, tying itself in knots.

He tried to breathe through his mouth to ignore the smell of garbage, which was easy enough because he was breathing hard already. His wound bled sluggishly though his jeans as he shut his eyes, allowing himself rueful smile. It was a real mess he'd gotten into.

Hugging his bare arms for warmth, he playfully cursed his childhood self for telling her that short sleeved jackets were cool. Who was 'her' again? It was Ayano, wasn't it? If he forgot that name, he might as well die, so Kano held onto it, turning it over and over in his mind. It was important, for some reason, to hold onto her memory, but as the minutes wore on and the puddle of blood around him grew, he was having trouble remembering why.

Something touched the edge of his mind, like fingers sliding down the spines of books in a library. For a moment Kano thought he remembered such a nostalgic feeling, but the memories seemed to be just out of reach.

…

Some time later, there were footsteps in the mouth of the alley.

Kano's head was filled with white noise, buzzing and filling up his brain, but still he heard the shout.

"Down there?" A girl's voice, one he knew. Her voice was wild with worry, and the footsteps pounded closer.

"Right here, I felt him, I know he's—" the other voice was a boy's, and familiar too, and a flash of light lit up his face. Kano struggled to open his eyes, but couldn't summon the energy.

"Hey, wake up, do you have any idea how late it…is…" There was frustration and anger in the girl's voice, but it faded as the beam of light moved down and away from his face. Kano got the sense they were looking at the blood around him, and he had a feeling that was bad for some reason. He shifted, lifting his suddenly very heavy arm in a vain attempt to cover the injury, and heard the boy suck in a deep breath.

"He moved, just now. We gotta get him to the hospital." Kano heard rustling, and the beep of a phone as it was pulled out, but the girl had other ideas.

"Give me the flashlight. You need to carry him." There seemed to be no argument, the glow of light in Kano's eyelids bobbing as the device was passed from one person to the other, and then Kano was being lifted, an arm around his back and the other under his knees. The sudden movement jostled the wound and white hot bolts of pain shot through him. He almost blacked out there and then. His head rocked against the boy's shoulder and the beam of light was focused on his face. Again he struggled to lift heavy arms to cover his eyes, and though he didn't quite manage it, it seemed the girl knew what he was objecting to and turned the light aside.

"Where's the nearest hospital?" she asked, her voice rough, and Kano was shifted so that his carrier could point. The motion was so sudden that pain ricocheted through him again, and this time Kano did lose consciousness, sinking into welcome darkness.

…

When Kano woke up, he had no idea how long it'd been. There was grass in his face, and a heavy weight across his shoulder and chest, and another one on his leg. He stared at the ceiling through the grass, trying to figure out where he was. It smelled like a hospital. He drew in another deep breath to be sure, and realized the grass smelled nice, and probably wasn't grass at all. Blowing it out of his face and turning his head to his left confirmed his suspicions; it was Kido's hair. He followed it with his eyes until he found Kido's head, face down on her arms on the mattress, and Kido's tired shoulders, slumped over, and then the chair Kido was sitting on next to his bed. Huh.

He blinked at the unusual sight for a few seconds, then turned his head to the right. Short hair prickled against his jaw, and looking down, he saw that the heavy weight was in fact Seto's head pressed against his shoulder and his arm thrown across his chest. Two out of three mysteries solved, he turned his eyes to his leg. A thick white bandage was wrapped around the limb, no blood showing through it at all. Kano's mind was hazy, and he figured he'd been given something for the pain, but still memories filtered through.

"Ouch," he remarked, as everything came together.

He'd thought he was being quiet, but at his voice Seto started, bumping his head on Kano's chin, and sat up, rubbing his eyes.

"You're awake," he remarked blearily, then looked down at his hand, opening and closing the fingers. "And my arm's asleep."

"I'm not surprised," Kano quipped, adjusting his posture against the pillows now that the weight was gone. His shoulder felt light and also surprisingly cold. "That looked pretty uncomfortable."

Seto yawned. "It wasn't too bad." Then, gingerly, he asked, "how're you feeling?"

"Like ass," Kano replied, and Seto looked worried. Kano realized with a pleasant surprise that the knot of tension in his stomach was gone. Maybe he should get shot more often.

"We were really worried when you didn't come home," Seto said, changing the subject. "Right, Kido?"

Kano opened his mouth to say that Kido was still sleeping, please don't wake her up, she can scold me later and preferably never, but when he turned his head her shoulders were pulled tight as if strung together by steel wire.

Discovered, she sat up, and Kano realized with a shock that the skin around her eyes was bright red. She glared down at him.

"I wasn't gone long," Kano protested, forcing himself to look elsewhere, so he didn't feel bad. In his peripheral vision, she raised her arm, and he braced himself for the hit. When it came, however, it was barely a slap, her fingers tapping his cheek once.

"It was three days," she whispered, her voice shaking with rage. "three days, Kano. We thought you were dead. You almost _were_."

Kano looked pleadingly at Seto, who grimaced at him. His expression very clearly said 'you brought this on yourself, buddy.'

"Ah, but wouldn't that be a relief," Kano said cheerfully. He shut his eyes, unable to look at either of them as he said, "it would be convenient, right? If I didn't come home." Surely it would make life easier for the two of them. He ate their food and used their space, caused fights and lied to their faces. And it wasn't as though he brought any benefit to the two of them either.

There was a crash, and Kano opened his eyes in surprise. Kido's fist was buried in the wall beside his head. She pulled her hand back, and there was an obvious dent, several inches deep.

"That wall," she told him, fury blazing in her eyes, "is your head if you ever say that again."

He'd never seen her so angry.

She glared at him for several seconds, before standing up and turning to leave. "I'm going to the vending machine," she said, her back to the two of them. "Seto, I'm giving you permission to use extreme force if he does anything stupid."

"Yeah, okay," Seto responded, peering at Kano with worry.

"Don't I get a say in this?" Kano spluttered, but Kido was done dealing with him for now, and she left the room without saying anything more.

The room was quiet. Kano moved the pillow behind his back, already restless from being in one place for too long.

Seto spoke up. "You thought about her."

"Who?" Kano asked, fighting with the pillow, "Kido? Nah. Forgot about her the second she left. Nothing to see up here!" He knocked his fist against his temple, then winced.

But Seto was still watching him, his usual smile missing from his face. "No, Ayano. When you were—" Kano was pretty sure he was going to say dying, but Seto seemed to correct himself at the last moment. "—when you were lying there. That's how I knew it was you."

Kano thought back to the feeling, the butterfly brush of someone else's mind against his own. Oh, so that's why it had been familiar.

"If you still think of her like that," Seto was still speaking, "then why would you say something like it'd be better if you were gone? That's the opposite of everything she ever taught us."

"You wouldn't understand," Kano told him lazily, picking at the front of the hospital clothes he'd been put in.

"I want to understand," he replied desperately, and Kano heard the edge of a child's voice in the words. The second Seto spoke he seemed embarrassed about it, or maybe frustrated at himself.

Wanting to talk about something, anything else, Kano told him, "you guys shouldn't have brought me here. How are we gonna pay for it?"

It seemed to distract him well enough, because Seto looked embarrassed, looking down at his lap. Kano waited.

"We, er, we have more money than you think," Seto said slowly, not meeting his eyes, "we've been saving. We just didn't tell you because we thought you'd blow it on something stupid."

Kano was already flipping through the mental images of all the things they could buy now that they were loaded by the time Seto finished his sentence, and he squawked in outrage. "What's _that_ supposed to mean?"

Seto was laughing now, and Kano felt a little bit better about the whole thing. He couldn't be too mad at his friends for hiding their monetary status, not when the one who caused so much trouble was him. He looked at the door.

"I wonder where Kido is," he asked suddenly, "I should have asked her to get me something. I haven't eaten in days."

He was hungry, but it wasn't the most pressing need at the moment. His words, chosen carefully, had the desired effect. Seto leaped to his feet. "Oh god, really? I'll try to catch up with her, hang on."

His friend left the room, and Kano took a moment to marvel over the fact that not only had Seto fallen for it, he also apparently thought Kido actually went to get food. Incredible.

Or maybe he just wanted to escape Kano as much as Kano wanted to escape himself.

At the thought, suggested by a voice in the back of Kano's head that was quickly becoming Kano's own, he hunched his shoulders, looking down at the bandages on his leg. He wondered when whatever pain medication they'd given him would wear off. He hoped it was soon. He needed something to distract himself from the coiling frustration in his chest.


End file.
